


You Don't Own Me

by Shastakine



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shastakine/pseuds/Shastakine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If pirates struggle with eating disorder, surely they struggle with difficulties such as depression and self-harm.  This is a song fic, song is "Dear X, You Don't Own Me," by Disciple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Own Me

_Dear pain, oh, it’s been a long time_  
Remember when you were holding me tight  
I would stay awake with you all night 

You stood amidst the chaos, the death, the atrocity.  Bodies were strewn everywhere.  Blood and gore littered the streets of the small town you used to call home.  You were petrified, your eyes were locked on the corpses of your parents and brother, lying in the gutter along with your neighbors.  It was so horrific, yet you couldn’t seem to look away.  You were sixteen.  A burly man towered over you.  “Aw, look at this precious little thing.  What do you think, boys?  Think we need a pet on our ship?”  You were trembling, barely able to stand, let alone run or fight back.  You had no idea where they came from or even who they were; all you knew is that they were pirates.  The man took your chin in his grimy, pudgy fingers.  “You’re coming with us, little lady,” he said with a sadistic grin, gripping your arm and dragging you to your new home, the ‘Mortal Violet.’  Or rather, your new prison.

_Dear shame, I was safe in your arms_  
You were there when it all fell apart  
I would get so lost in your beautiful lies 

You joined them.  You didn’t have much of a choice; it was either go with them willingly or they would kill you just as they had killed the rest of your family and village.  They were the Violent Thorn Pirates.  The burly man who had coerced you into joining them was their captain, Ezekiel ‘Sealion’ Dawkins.  Sealion was a fitting name for him; he was blubbery and slimy and altogether disgusting.  You were his prized possession, and you were disgusted with him, yourself, and your life.

Each night the awful presences of betrayal, guilt, loneliness, and grief was too overwhelming for you to bear.  For several weeks you simply cried and wailed in the hold of the ship, far away from any of the miserable excuses for human beings sailing on board.  But it wasn’t enough, you couldn’t shed enough tears to ease the sundering of your heart.  You were nearing total despair when you found a crate of abandoned switchblades.  You took one, studying the shining edges of the knife; these had never been used before.  You delicately sunk it into the soft skin just above your wrists, and were drawn to the sight of the rivulet of blood that began to drip.  The physical pain, the sight of the flowing scarlet blood, it pulled you away from your emptiness and hollowness.  Yes, this would do well to help you survive this living nightmare.  You hadn’t given up on life; but you needed an escape from your daily pain.

_I let you go but you’re still chasing_

You vowed you would not stay prisoner on this ship of misery forever.  

_Go ahead, you’re never going to take me_  
You can bend, but you’re never going to break me  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me 

But you had difficulty finding any opportunities to flee, and the possibilities of another life seemed to grow fewer and fewer as the months wore on.  Still, you couldn’t let go of your tiny shred of hope.  Even in the darkest nights, the glimmer that someday you would be free again glowed faintly in your heart.  Despite the morbid ways that you used to cope with your desperate circumstances, you were your own person, who made your own decisions, decided what you would think, how you would feel.  Your spirit belonged to no one, or so you told yourself.  What you didn’t realize is that you were a slave to your own crushing depression and despair.

_Dear hate, I know you’re not far_  
You would wait at the door of my heart  
I was amazed at the passion in your cries 

Months turned into years.  Your crew mates were vicious and blood thirsty, and you hardened your heart, strengthened your stomach, and deadened your soul.  Your choices were to feel pain, or feel nothing, and nothing was a blissful existence compared to the heart-wrenching agony of memory and shame.  You hated your life, your crewmates, your captain, but most of all, you hated yourself for continuing to live in this ghastly existence of a life.  For a long time you wondered if it was strength or cowardice that kept you alive, but you forced that debate out of your mind; it was just too hurtful and you leaned towards the conclusion of cowardice.  You hated that deep down, you chose to still live in this dark wasteland, rather than choose death.  But it wasn’t enough; you couldn’t hate the Thorns or yourself enough, so you turned your hatred on everything around you as well.  It filled you with power and strength, and lacking the will to find a new life anymore, your hatred was the only will that kept you alive and fighting.  There was nothing you enjoyed, nothing that brought you pleasure.  You were consumed by your hatred for the world.

_Dear anger, you made me so high_  
You were faithful to show up on time  
Such a flame that was burning in your eyes 

Anger was your hatred’s second cousin, and you would lash out at anyone foolish enough to get in your way, be they marines, rival pirates, or innocent civilians.  Spilling the innocent’s blood was the only action that would turn your stomach anymore, and after raiding a town and relieving it of the contents in its bank, your crewmates were celebrating in a pub with a few other lesser known pirate gangs.  In all honesty, you weren’t sure if they were lesser known or not but you had little interest in anyone else in the world.  You were off by yourself, drinking rum as if it was the only substance in the world that would keep you functioning; which, on several levels, it was.

A smaller, younger group of pirates were also drinking raucously in the pub.  ‘Younger’ was a warped perception of them, they were most likely about your age, but you felt you had aged decades in the four years you had spent with the Violent Thorns.  One of them was watching you intently; you noticed with minute curiosity that he only had one good eye, the other had a large scar running vertically on his face, sealing it shut.  It wasn’t the first time you had been noticed by a rival pirate crew, but Sealion typically made short work of anyone who would try to take you from him.  But this particular man seemed different to the other thugs who had leered at you before; there was a confident and reassuring aura about him and he wasn’t studying you with lustful intent.  In your rum-hazed state your curiosity about him grew; especially his green hair and the three swords at his waist.  But it had been four years since you had any sort of pleasant interaction with a human being, so you could only utilize what you knew: hostility.

“Got a staring problem, grain for brains?” you hollered across the bar at him.  He narrowed his only eye at you, then walked over to you at the bar, swigging at his own tankard of rum.

“Couldn’t help but notice you’re the only woman in your crew.  And you don’t seem particularly close with them,” he said blandly, but his eye was still narrowed suspiciously.

“You look like you’ve never seen a pirate woman before.  What’s so different from me and the bimbos in your crew?” you asked brusquely.

He smirked.  “The scars on your arms.  Those aren’t battle wounds,” he said bluntly.  Your eyes widened.   _Of all the… this guy’s got some serious balls,_ you thought.  In a flash you retrieved two of the four daggers you had strapped to your person at all times.  Green-hair was faster than you, _much_ faster, however, and one sword blocked your dual-attack before you even realized why your blades had stopped their motion.

“You really don’t want to do that,” a slimy voice sounded from behind you.  You grimaced, Sealion had noticed the disturbance occurring with his favorite pet.  You also noticed that green-hair was giving you a curious look at your obvious distaste of your captain.

“I got this handled, Zeke,” you turned your head slightly, a feral growl lacing your voice.  Sealion hated it when you called him Zeke, and it typically pissed him off enough that he’d leave you alone or beat you away from him, either of which were preferable to any other sort of attention he or the crew normally gave you.

“Then handle it outside, bitch,” he spat at you venomously.  You sheathed the daggers and briskly walked out of the pub into the night air.  You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around yourself, taking a deep, painful breath.  The rum wasn’t doing it tonight, shutting down wasn’t doing it, and you weren’t able to cry anymore.  Only one option left.  You reached to your belt, pulling out a small pearl-handled knife that you had specially purchased and sharpened that you only used for self-harm.  But just as you were about to lower the blade to your wrist, a strong hand gripped your arm and twisted your hand, forcing you to drop your special knife to the ground.  You jerked your eyes up angrily to the owner of the hand; it was the green-haired swordsman.  You glowered at him with as much ferocity as you could muster; his expression matched your intimidation, and his face was just centimeters from yours.

“Blades shouldn’t harm their owners,” he said quietly, loosening his grip on your wrist but kicking your beautiful knife several meters away.  Your hatred and anger screamed at you to retrieve the blade and stab this fucker as many times as it would take for him to get the message that your blood was your own to spill.  His eye, though, for all its steeliness and hardened strength, contained just a note of concern that gave you pause.

“What do you care if I use my own blades on myself?” you growled at him.

“You don’t have to live your life fighting misery like this.  If you’re not happy with them, then leave them.  Find what makes you happy,” he said simply.

_What makes me happy?_  “What do you know about happiness?  What do you know about pain and misery?  You don’t know me!  You don’t know anything!” you shouted at him, swinging daggers at him again but he caught your wrists before the blades could slice his skin.  Try as you might, no matter how hard you fought against him, his strong arms held you right where you were; you couldn’t wrench your hands or the daggers they held free.  Your heart felt like it was going to burst from the searing pain in your chest.  This was all wrong, why did this hurt so much, why were tears welling in your eyes?  How long had it been since you cried?  Two years?  Three?

“I don’t need to know anything about you to want you to be happy.  I care because I don’t like seeing someone hurt and alone.  No one on our crew does,” he answered in that same even, simple voice.

“Who the fuck are you?” you asked with a calmer, steadier voice that was in stark contrast to the turmoil you were feeling.

“Roronoa Zoro,” he said.  “You?”

You stopped fighting him.  “[F/n] [l/n],” you answered.

“Come have a drink with us.  Let my captain show you what a good crew is really like,” he offered, releasing your arms and trusting you to sheathe your daggers.  You eyed him suspiciously, but did put your weapons away after a few moments.  “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.  And if you do come and you don’t like us, you can leave.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself again, contemplating this proposal.  On one hand, your better judgment said that he was no different than any other pirate who had invaded your personal space at countless other taverns throughout the Grand Line.  And you knew that Sealion would have a few choice words about you spending time with another pirate crew.  But something about this man gnawed at your soul; you were undeniably drawn to him, for reasons you thought you may never fully understand.  “I can’t go drink with you, my captain won’t allow it.”

“He sent you out here, right?  Then we’ll come join you.”  He turned on his heel before you could protest, and within minutes, eight others followed him out of the pub, drinks in hand.  The swordsman, Zoro, as you now knew him, offered you another tankard.  You watched his crew; the energy and enthusiasm of them all was stifling and overwhelming to you.  It was so remarkably different to the Violent Thorns, to the past four years of your miserable life.  Not one of the Straw Hats, as you came to be introduced to them, ever stopped smiling it seemed.  Even as you tried to edge yourself away from them several times, their captain, Luffy, somehow pulled you back into their circle of shenanigans in front of the pub with his rubber arms.  By the end of the night, you still couldn’t smile, but the throbbing in your chest wasn’t so painful anymore and there didn’t seem to be as much emotional carnage in your heart as there was before.  You were almost sad to see the night end; could you have actually enjoyed the small amount of time you spent with the Straw Hats?  You scoffed at yourself; ridiculous.

You thought about Zoro’s words, though.  About finding happiness.  He and his crew were heading back to their ship, and you could hear the Violent Thorns getting ready to leave for the Mortal Violet from inside.  “Wait!” you called out, running after them.  You heart thundered in your chest in earnest now.   _Am I really going to run from the Violent Thorns?  Have I lost my mind?!  Zeke will kill me and burn the Straw Hats’ ship to the bottom of the sea!_ you thought in panic.  But the panic was dammed when Zoro turned around and flashed you a brilliant white smile as you caught up to them.

“[F/n]!  Where the fuck do you think you’re running off to?!” you heard Sealion’s furious yell behind you.  Your hands began to shake, and you could feel yourself paralyzing, but Zoro grabbed you by the arm and pulled you along with the rest of his crew running for their ship.  You made it, thankfully, and from the aft end of the ship sporting a lion’s head you could see Sealion standing at the helm of the Mortal Violet and the rest of your crew making ready to set sail.  Absently, as the Sunny sailed out to sea, you realized that you never retrieved your self-harm blade from the bushes by the pub, but that was a small loss in light of what you knew was coming.  You could feel Sealion’s fury radiating across the water.  It wasn’t over yet.  It may never be.  

_I let you go, but you’re still chasing_

You and the Straw Hats arrived safely at the next island, to your great surprise.  You were truly amazed at the numerous mechanical advancements of their ship, the Thousand Sunny; despite its goofy looking exterior, it really was a formidable ship.  It had taken eight days to land at this island after an unexpected escape from the previous port thanks to what the Straw Hats’ shipwright, Franky, called Coup de Burst, and it was the most uncomfortable eight days of your previous four years.  If the Violet was the dead of night, the Sunny was the break of dawn.  The Mortal Violet represented everything that was depraved and dark; the Thousand Sunny was hope and light.  It was the shred of hope that you had clutched so desperately at over the past four years, even though you hadn’t known what it was yet.  And it was blinding to you, painfully so.  Each day you felt your heart softening, your soul enlivening again, and it was terrifying and left you feeling so weak and vulnerable.  You took every opportunity you could to isolate yourself, but Zoro somehow always found you in your solitude.

“What are your plans next?” he asked the day before you landed at the next island.

“None,” you answered.  “It was a split second decision to chase after you all at the pub, and from here on out I’m just flying by the seat of my pants.”

“Figure out what makes you happy yet?”

“Nope.”

“You haven’t cut since you got on our ship.”

“Nope.  Lost my blade.”

“There’s other blades.”

You sighed.  This was getting tedious.  “It’s not the same.  What do you care, anyway?  Who are you, my mother?” you spat out, immediately regretting your words.  Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you felt your hollow heart break.  You hadn’t spoken of your family since their murder four years ago.   _What possessed me to say that?_ you thought sorrowfully; you hung your head while your vision blurred.   _Tears?  What?_

A silence hung in the air now, but it wasn’t awkward.  Zoro sat with you for a long while as you processed your pain.  You wondered what he would do if you left to go cut, with whatever second class blade you could find.  You turned your forearms over, tracing your delicate fingers over the multitude of scars that covered them.  Drops wetted them, you realized the tears were actually falling from your eyes now.  A strong calloused hand took yours gently.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to hold on to it.  You can look forward, go wherever you want to go, do whatever you want to do, and be whoever you want to be.  The scars on your arms tell me that you’ve been living like this for years.  You don’t have to anymore,” he said quietly as you sobbed silently.  You were a tough, hardened pirate; you don’t sob.  And neither you nor Zoro would say anything to the contrary.   _But if I let all the pain, shame, hatred, and anger go, what do I have left?_

With that doubt-filled thought still addling your mind, you disembarked with the rest of the Straw Hats the next day at a quiet spring island.  The air was fresh, the weather was warm and sunny, and the fields were just starting to bloom.  It reminded you of your hometown, which caused your eyes to well again.  You shook your head to yourself, standing away from the Straw Hat crew as they discussed excitedly their plans for exploring the island.  A few minutes later they broke into smaller groups, each no doubt off to pursue their own interests.  Zoro looked over at you.  You forced composure across your face and strode over to him.

“Thank you for everything.  It’s been a… an enlightening experience spending the past week with your crew.  I’ll make it on my own from here,” you said congenially, the corner of your mouth twitching on your face.   _A smile?  Did I really enjoy it on the Thousand Sunny?  What does that even feel like?_  And now, you realized, you were disappointed to be leaving them so soon.

Zoro flashed another one of his brilliant smiles at you; smiles you were discovering caused an uncomfortable flurry of activity in your chest and stomach.  “Anytime.  Take care of yourself,” he said, walking off towards the little town.  Once again, you wanted to chase after him, but you had no reason to now.  You were free of the Violent Thorns.  And you had no idea who you were now or what to do.   _Find what makes me happy?_

You explored the island on your own, outside of the village, which resembled your own far too much for comfort.  You strolled along the edges of the fields throughout the morning, hiked through the forests in the afternoon, and meandered down the beach during the evening, finding a spot to sit down and rest at sunset to watch the sun sink into the horizon.  The beach was so peaceful; the smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves lapping at the shore, the feel of the sun-kissed sand still warm from the heat of the day.  You lay back and watched clouds float lazily by miles and miles high above you, in rich hues of oranges, reds, greens, and blues.  You drifted off at some point, the most relaxing sleep you’d had in years.

You were rudely awoken by a stick poking you in the side.  You were still groggy; indeed, you hadn’t rested like that for longer than you could remember and your body and brain were loath to give that sleep up yet.  But sinister chuckles and jeers around you jerked you sharply back to wakefulness.  You knew the sound of those voices.

“Well, look what we have here.  A lost, little, runaway kitten.  C’mere, kitty, we’re going back to the ship,” Sealion smirked at you, yanking you up by the hair and back towards the island’s port.   _No, no, no!_ a panicked voice in  your head cried.  The light at the end of the tunnel had been so close, but now a trapdoor had appeared in your path and you felt yourself falling back towards oblivion.

The sight of the Mortal Violet floating in the harbor alongside the Thousand Sunny was your final straw.  A strength, more powerful than your hatred or anger, flared up within you.   _I can_ **fight** _now!  I don’t have to stay with them!_  “NO!” you shrieked, digging your fingernails into the hand gripping you by the head and rending yourself from his grip.  Your hands went for your daggers, but the back of Sealion’s hand caught you in the jaw, spinning you around on to the ground.  Cruel laughter rang out around you.

“That’ll teach you to defy Captain,” one of your crewmates crowed at you.

You spat blood on to the ground from your cheeks sliced open on the inside.  “No,” you whispered again, your drive to hold onto your freedom undeterred by Sealion’s abusive attempts to intimidate you back into line.  Your own will to fight and live as you wanted caused words to spill from your lips before you even thought them through.

_“Go ahead, you’re never going to take me_  
You can bend, but you’re never going to break me  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me.” 

Sealion stopped laughing now, and leveled a murderous glare at you, removing his pistol from its holster.  “Say that again,” he dared you, pointing it straight at you between your eyes.  Behind him, you could see the Straw Hats rushing towards the scene.  You closed your eyes, steadying your voice, and trusting the same confidence and strength that you felt the night you met Zoro.

_“Go ahead, put a target on my forehead_  
You can fire, but you’ve got no bullet  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me.” 

You heard the sound of sword blades slicing through the air and the screams of several crewmates as the Straw Hats descended upon them.  You couldn’t have sat there for more than half a second, but when you opened your eyes again, blood and bodies were surrounding you, and your view of the few fleeing crew members was blocked by the figure of a swordsman standing between you and death.  After Zoro was certain that none of the Violent Thorns would return, he turned to you and knelt down.  “Are you alright?” he asked, the note of concern you had seen before now echoing so tangibly that you thought you could pluck it out of the air and hold onto to it forever, and you desperately wanted to.

“Yeah, I think I am,” you answered, your voice wavering.  He took your hands in his.

“The log pose on this island takes nine days to set.  Stay with us until we leave?” he asked, his hope that you would accept clearly written on his face.

“Yeah.  Okay,” you agreed quietly, then allowed him to help you up as you followed the Straw Hats to the inn they were staying at in the town.

Try as you might, you couldn’t sleep.  The adrenaline from your confrontation with Sealion was pulsing thought your system, and the confusing mess of hope and strength that you had found in the moment when you realized that you’d rather die standing than live in fear at his feet any longer was almost physically painful.  You didn’t know what to do with all these unfamiliar feelings; emotions that, when you last had felt them, were just barely beginning to bloom.  But now, rather than delicate flowers of feeling, they felt like ravaging vines creeping through your veins.  They itched and clawed at your heart and soul and finally you couldn’t take it anymore.  You thought of your long lost blade.  No matter, you had your daggers.  Your blood or an innocent’s?  It didn’t matter, really.  You left the inn and headed out into the dark of the port, just outside the Mortal Violet.  Sealion was dead, and none of the very few remaining crew members would dare tangle with you now.  You dangled your feet off the edge of the dock.  It had been a few weeks since you had cut; slowly removing your dagger, your wrists almost itched when you thought of seeing blood drain from your arm again.  It was darkly thrilling.

_You tempted me to look back  
But everything that we had together was a lie_

You pressed the blade against your skin once again.  You took excellent care of your daggers; they were always sharp, and the edge split your arm open easily.  You watched a trickle of blood drip down your arm, falling into the murky water in the harbor.  You let out a sigh; this felt so good.  Physical pain began to overwrite emotional suffering, and your eyes fixed on the simplistic beauty of blood creating small rivers on your arm.  You closed your eyes, committing the blood to memory and savoring the feel of your split skin.  After a few minutes, you opened your eyes again.  It wasn’t enough.  Not yet.  Your heart was still overflowing with hurt, your stomach was nauseous, your soul was so lost and confused.  Enough pain and blood would drown all of that out, you knew it, and you needed more.  It felt almost like a trance, and you weren’t sure how much damage you had done before you distantly heard heavy boots on the dock, and a warm, familiar voice sounding far more panicked than he needed to be.   _I’m just relieving some pain, what’s the big deal?_ you thought in irritation, but you were becoming dizzy and the world felt foggy around you.   _Is this death?  Oh well,_ were your last thoughts before fading out of consciousness.

_Go ahead, you’re never going to take me_  
You can bend, but you’re never going to break me  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me 

You awoke with a pounding headache, lying in an unfamiliar bed, but a familiar presence was seated next to you.  You turned your head to look at him.  Dark circles colored his face beneath his eyes; it appeared Zoro hadn’t slept recently.

“What time is it?” you mumbled quietly.

“You nearly kill yourself after I save your life and that’s the first thing you ask?” he snarled at you.

“I wasn’t killing myself, I was just getting rid of some pain,” you mumbled again and turned your head away from him, a light blush crossing your cheeks.  Wait, since when did you care what anyone thought of your self-harm, least of all a pirate you had only met just over a week ago?  You turned back to glare at him when he grabbed your wrist out from underneath the covers.  It seared and itched, and even you were surprised by the amount of bandages wrapping around your arm.

“This is just getting rid of some pain?  Try moving your hand,” he ordered.  You scoffed, then moved to do so, but discovered that not one of your fingers on your left hand would respond the way you commanded them.  “You severed all the tendons in your wrist.  You cut clean down to the bone!  Do you even remember what you were doing?”

You remained silent.  You hadn’t really ever thought about dying before; you let anger and hatred consume you too much to ever really become aware of the bottomless pit of despair that sat in place of your heart in your chest.  But you did recall clearly your final thought before losing consciousness; you hadn’t cared whether or not you died.  And this was easily the most the damage you’d ever done to yourself before, physically or emotionally.

“We killed Sealion.  You found the courage to run away from him even before we killed him, but he was dead and you still felt the need to do this to yourself?” Zoro questioned, desperation in his voice.  “Why?” he barely breathed out, his voice shaking.

You looked into his piercing green eye for several long moments.  Something in his eye called to you, eased the pain that you typically released from your bloodstream.  You saw confusion, anger, fear, and care.   _Care?_  The thought that Zoro cared about you cracked through your hardened shell of hate and anger, but underneath that was only shame and pain.  Tears filled your eyes, you cried without answering him.  He took your hands gently in his once again, brushing his fingers lightly over the bandages wrapped from the palm of your hand all the way up to your elbow.  A growing blot of red was staining the outside of them now, it appears Zoro’s earlier act of yanking you quite literally back into reality had reopened the wounds.  He sighed.  “Chopper’s going to kill me, I ripped some of the stitches open, it looks like.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath, you still hadn’t figured out why his presence was so reassuring and so comforting to you.  “You asked why,” you started, but paused.  He looked at your face expectantly, but a lump was stuck in your throat and you couldn’t breathe, talk, or swallow.  You gasped in, and the tears spilled over your eyes.  “All I’ve known for four years is anger, hate, pain and shame, since the Violent Thorns destroyed my village and murdered my family in front of me.  I don’t know what I am without those feelings.  I spend time with the Straw Hats, and… with you, and I feel… different.  I feel weak.  I feel like something’s just waiting around the corner to hurt me again.  It’s frightening, and I can’t stand that feeling of being scared.  I’d rather be hateful and angry than feel scared.”

His expression softened while you tried to explain that, and sadness filled his eyes.  Maybe it was pity.  Compassion?  It was hard to tell, you weren’t familiar with those emotions anymore.  “Stop looking at me like that, like I’m some stupid, lost puppy that you’re trying to save out of pity,” you growled at him.

“It’s not pity,” he said with a scowl.  “Didn’t I tell you that everyone on our crew hates to see someone hurt and alone?  That’s what this is.  I don’t pity you, you’re a fighter.  But I don’t like that you don’t even know how to feel good anymore.  Or at least how to feel good without the sight of your own blood.  Happiness doesn’t make you weak.  Right now, you’re drawing your strength from a self-serving pool of anger and hatred out of self-preservation, but I can promise you that loyalty and determination are much more powerful than any hatred you’ve felt before.”

You looked at him skeptically; clearly, he had never seen the extent of your anger.  “Fuck it, I can’t explain anything worth shit.  Come with us for a little while longer, you’ll see what I mean,” he said.

“Thanks but no.  You all are little too cheery for my taste,” you answered quickly out of apprehension.  A hint of disappointment stung in your heart, though.

“Where will you go?” he asked, almost challengingly.

“I told you, I’ll make it on my own.  No one’s ever looked out for me yet, I don’t need anyone to start now,” you answered, turning your head away from him.  That hint of disappointment was growing louder each second he persisted on this.

“No one in the Straw Hats _needs_ anyone to look out for them, but we all _want_ to look out for each other.  Doesn’t that make any sense to you?” he said, and you could hear the pleading tone in his voice.  He _wanted_ to look out for you, now, even though he knew you didn’t need it.

The disappointment in your heart at turning him down was virtually screaming at you.  “All right!” you gave in.  “I’ll go with you all.  But just for a little while.”

He grinned broadly in victory.  “Great.  We’ve got seven days left on this island til the log pose sets and we sail out.  My captain’s planning to party every single night until we leave.  You up for that?”

“Bring on the rum,” you said, a full blown smile finally crossing your face.  It was uncomfortable at first, but you found it felt more pleasant than frowning and scowling all the time, and it seemed to be easier on your face.  Perhaps you could escape this pain and despair that had you locked in their sights after all.

_Go ahead, put a target on my forehead_  
You can fire, but you’ve got no bullet  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me 

That first night in the town drinking and partying with the Straw Hats, you couldn’t relax and enjoy yourself.  You kept looking over your shoulder; even though you knew that Sealion was dead and his few cowardly remaining crew members had abandoned the Mortal Violet in the harbor, you felt as if his ghost might sneak up on you to remind you of how wretched you were.  That is, you couldn’t relax until Zoro’s crew member Sanji grabbed you by the hand and forced you to start dancing.  You were alarmed at first and almost wound up to punch him square in the nose, but Zoro’s chuckle from a nearby table caused adrenaline to pump through your veins.  It only confused you further; there were no threats nearby, why was your heart pounding and your face heating up?  With your guard down, Sanji spun you in circles and dipped and swung you every which way.  You were bewildered and unnerved, but found it… somewhat enjoyable.

You allowed him only the one dance, thrown off as you were by your strange reaction to Zoro’s smile and your unexpected joy dancing.  You retreated next to Zoro by the bar.

“Sorry about that, I couldn’t help siccing our ero-cook on you.  Knew he’d throw you for a loop,” Zoro snickered.

Your eyes widened in surprise at him, and after a dumbfounded moment you slugged him in the arm.  “So that stunt was your idea!  How stupid,” you scolded, retreating to your more comfortable frowns and scowls.

Rather than starting a fight, as you had intended, he only laughed loudly.  “I almost didn’t recognize you, you actually looked like you might have had a little fun out there,” he said after a few minutes, finally calming down.

“Ha ha.  Clearly it was your crazy imagination,” you grumbled at him.

He reached out and took your hand, pulling you towards the door.  “C’mon, let’s go for a walk,” he said.

“A walk?  What the fuck for?” you protested, but followed him anyway, for more reasons you didn’t understand.  The way you felt and thought around this man made absolutely no sense, and that should have alarmed you far more than it did, but instead, you were strangely calmed by it.   _Oh well,_ you thought, your heart skipping a beat as you realized you didn’t care any longer about why you enjoyed being with him so much.  It felt… good, not to feel the need to worry constantly and know that someone cared.

Soon the two of you were walking along the beach.  You had ditched your shoes somewhere, not even caring if you found them again.  The cool sea breeze, the salty aroma of the sea mixed with Zoro’s steel scent, and the soft moon and starlight all brought peace to your broken soul.  You were smiling again, and you didn’t even realize it.  You did realize that Zoro’s eye was watching you carefully, however, after a few minutes.  “What?” you asked, not defensive for once, just curious.

“Are you happy?”

You stopped walking now.   _Happy?  Is that what this is?_  Your muscles didn’t feel tensed up anymore, you weren’t worried about what was going to happen next, and you weren’t replaying horrible memories of wrongs committed against you or that you yourself had committed.  You were just lost in the moment, the simple beauty of the night and time spent with someone whom you considered… what?  Zoro had quickly become someone you trusted, someone whose company you enjoyed, and someone who helped you rediscover parts of yourself long since wounded, buried, and forgotten.  The tears in your eyes sparkled in the night light, but the smile still stayed fixed across your face.

“Yes,” you whispered, dropping your gaze and feeling foolish.  “I am happy.”

A strong hand lifted your chin again and you were looking into one steel, green eye and one sealed shut and scarred.  You closed your eyes as Zoro’s lips found yours and locked with you in a passionate twilight kiss, and you let him hold you protectively while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.  When the two of you broke for air, you rested your forehead against his, still grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m not staying with the Straw Hats, you know,” you said.

He sighed.  “I know.  You’ll take over the Mortal Violet now, won’t you?” he asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.  You nodded.  You were strong, resourceful, and fiery; you would sail for your own destiny now, not under anyone else’s banner.  “You’ll make a hell of a captain.  We’ll have to watch our backs,” Zoro continued, his eye dancing dangerously in the moonlight.

You giggled.  You were free from the Violent Thorns, and the Mortal Violet was now your vessel of freedom instead of your prison.  More than that, you were free from your prison of anger and hate, and your cage of shame and pain.  You were master of your fate now, no longer ruled by the pain and scars of your past.

_Go ahead, put a target on my forehead_  
You can fire, but you’ve got no bullet  
I was yours, I’m not yours anymore  
You don’t own me 


End file.
